


Pursuit of Happiness

by FAB900



Category: RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Choking, Collars, Dystopia, M/M, Nerd Crew Universe, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Power Play, Spanking, Strangulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 15:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20932547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FAB900/pseuds/FAB900
Summary: Release, contract, release, contract, release, contract. So many times was Jay brought to the edge, but never did Mike let him fall over it.





	Pursuit of Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey! This is set in a Nerd Crew Universe where the podcast boys actually hate their jobs and are living under the thumb of the Disney Empire. It's a little weird and kinda dark, but I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Big thanks to everyone who proofread this, and to Paper, for giving me the idea.  
(First half is smut, second half is plot).

The bowtie was the start of Mike's strange behaviour.

It was another day, another new podcast - Jay had gotten used to it. The fake enthusiasm, and the lies that would spill from his gullet and into the microphone. A cacophony of words that weren't to please him, or the viewers, but the big men upstairs that controlled them.

_ Disney_.

Mike had handed him the bowtie before they were due to film - something about Jay's attire not being ‘Disney’ enough, and without complaint, he'd slipped it on. Jay had learned not to question anything anymore, because if he did - it usually came with consequences.

The recording dragged on for hours. He couldn't find a way to praise Disney's newest and most dumbest ideas. Rich kept forgetting his lines. Mike wasn't enthusiastic enough. It was torture, to sit there, take after take as plastic toys stared them down, mockingly, like a judgemental audience.

Jay couldn't even relax when Mike had finally called it a wrap - because he knew what was coming next.

"Oh, thank God," Rich groaned, stumbling out of his chair and throwing his hat into a corner of the room. In disgust he started stripping off his Avengers shirt, replacing it with something unbranded and bland, "I thought that was going to take forever."

"We would have been done earlier if you hadn't screwed up so much," Mike said tiredly, loosening his tie and unbuckling his belt, freeing his stomach so it bulged over the hem of his pants.

"Hey, don't blame me, _ you _ were the one who took too much Valium this morning! Sounded like you were talking with a dick in your mouth--"

"Guys, guys, chill out," taking that moment to step in, Jay began fussing with the cameras. Rich had it easy; he wasn't the one who'd have to spend most of the night awake editing out the awkward silences and mumbled curses that inevitably slipped out of all their mouths at some point.

"Chill? _ Chill_? How? We've got the fucking _ mouse _ on our asses twenty-four seven to make new content, making sure that we don't slip up once and you expect me to _ chill_?! Ugh," Rich shook his head, "whatever. I'm gonna get some burritos and snort some of those headache pills we got in one of those Geek Crates once…anyone else coming?"

"Nah," Mike said, scratching his stubble, "I got some stuff to do."

"Jay?"

"Er--" Mike was looking at him intensely, shaking his head in a subtle way so Rich wouldn't notice, "--maybe another time."

Rich sighed and pulled on his coat, "fine. See you here tomorrow…unfortunately," then he left, moving so fast that Jay barely got his goodbyes in.

With Rich gone, Jay felt his nerves begin to itch. Being alone with Mike wasn't unusual. He was used to it, even. But getting adjusted to his presence never got easier.

Jay swallowed down his anxieties and continued to check the footage on the camera just to keep himself occupied - although with Mike just sat there, saying nothing, and just _ watching _ him, put him on edge.

It felt like an eternity later when Mike eventually spoke, "you haven't taken off your bowtie, Jay."

Sweat began to build on his palms.

"I will soon."

"Will you, now?" the wheels on Mike's chair squeaked as he stood up, sauntering his way over to where Jay stood.

"Y-yes."

"Really?" Mike's footsteps sounded more and more ominous the closer they approached - and in the small space, it wasn't long before he was behind him, his whiskey-scented breath tickling the hairs on the back of Jay's neck, "maybe you actually _ like _ wearing it…"

"Well-- you haven't taken your suit off either," Jay began, "maybe _ you _ like wearing it--"

Suddenly his world spun as Mike swivelled him around, his fingers digging into his shoulders and down into the bone as the larger male stared down at him with thunderous eyes.

"The fuck you just say?" Mike spat.

"I was, j-joking, Mike," gulped Jay, knowing better not to make any sudden movements, "I didn't mean anything by it--"

"A joke? A _ joke_ ? We have to sit here, hour after hour, shilling for an enterprise that treats us like shit stuck to their shoe, and you're implying that I _ like _ wearing this?" Jay tried not to squeal as Mike shook him hard, his glasses falling askew.

"I'm sorry!" Jay apologised, keeping quiet of the hypocrisy of the situation - Mike could tease him all he liked, but if Jay ever did the same, he usually snapped.

"I don't think you are," growled Mike, flipping Jay over again. Oh, Christ - something hard was poking his back, pressed firmly against his spine - "so, I'll _ make _you sorry."

Jay knew better than to run. Knew not to anger Mike any more than he had, or to cry - instead he allowed the larger man to push him forward, until he fell flat over the table covered with toys and, in Jay's eyes, other assorted junk.

The only thing Jay could think about as plastic clattered to the floor and his face hit the table was that they'd missed the stupidly expensive microphones by inches; that would've set back by at least half a year's wages if one of them had broken.

Without looking back, Jay heard Mike undressing. Heavy fabric fell to the floor, whisper-quiet yet it sounded as loud as gunfire to Jay's ears. A sound that he knew intimately, but it never ceased to be ominous.

Mike's hands were rough as they started to strip Jay of his jeans. An audible sound of disgust passed from Mike's lips as they came off, and Jay could only guess why.

"_Star Wars _ briefs? Really? Gross."

"They help me get into character--" Jay began to explain, but silenced himself when Mike straight-up tore them off him, cotton and cheap polyester noisily ripping as they fell to tatters in Mike's hands.

"I didn't ask," grunted Mike.

About to apologise again, Jay yelped instead when Mike slapped him across the ass, the tender flesh of his behind stinging.

"Owww," Jay whined, "that _ hurt_."

"It was meant to, you fucking idiot," Mike slapped him again, on the other cheek. Back and forth he went, the smacking of skin barely loud enough to drown out Jay's cries of pain.

"Mike, stop," he sobbed, "please stop."

"Please stop, _ what_?"

"Please stop, _ boss_ ," corrected Jay, rubbing the tears from out of his eyes. He was well-versed in Mike's little games; he had said them countless times before, practiced them to perfection to appease the other man, yet they always tumbled from his lips organically. No hesitation or second-takes needed, because Jay always meant it.

"Yeah, good boy," Mike massaged the now-tender skin, and Jay fought the urge to flinch. It would be rude, when Mike was showing him a rare act of kindness, "I'm _ your _ fucking boss. You answer to me and _ only _ me, don't you?"

"Y-yes," agreed Jay through gritted teeth, desperate not to do anything that would anger Mike, "I'm yours."

Mike hummed, his crushing weight settling on Jay's back as he pressed his lips to the tip of his ear; such a saccharine gesture that Jay was momentarily confused, given the situation - until Mike bit down, his teeth puncturing the skin.

"Gotta put my mark on you, Jay," Mike clarified through noisy slurps as he lapped up the bleeding wound, "have to show those fucks at Disney that only _ I _can own ya'."

Jay said nothing, his lip wobbling as he contained his howls of agony. His nails bit into the surface of the table as he suppressed his shivers, letting Mike do whatever he wanted.

Mike gave, Jay took; such was the nature of their relationship, a delicate balance that wasn't talked about, but always known between the both of them.

When he was apparently satisfied, Mike stood up and pulled apart Jay's ass cheeks, his thumb grazing against his hole. Jay sighed at the touch, then almost groaned when the other drifted lower, grazing past his taint and balls until he reached his destination.

"Fucking pervert," Mike remarked as he flicked the tip of Jay's erection, a sharp jolt making him jump, "getting off on this, like usual."

Flushing heavily and hiding his face in his arms, Jay once again kept quiet, a combination of embarrassment and fear making him unable to talk. Should he admit that he was, or keep his mouth shut? Mike's mood was always a bit of a mystery; sometimes he seemed to like it if he made a lot of noise, other times, Jay got the full force of his wrath if he dared to even squeak.

Pressing his lips into a line, Jay took the second option. He'd already been reprimanded for talking back earlier, so it seemed like the safest choice - and soon enough, Mike stopped torturing the head of his cock to grab it in his large hand and fondled the sensitive organ.

"Umf," Jay bit down on his fist to muffle the noise of his gasps. Mike's hand was dry, and the precum that dribbled from his dick wasn't enough to slick and dull the friction, but regardless - Jay couldn't stop himself from bucking into Mike's groping hands, wanting, _ needing _ more.

Because when his day-to-day life involved fake, soulless corporate shilling for franchises he cared nothing about, Jay could always count on Mike to give him a taste of something _ real_ .

Mike hands drifted back to Jay's ass, stretching him open once again. Wet globs of saliva landed on his hole as Mike spat, before roughly shoving two fingers into him, probing and impatient as they fucked him open.

It burned. It hurt. Mike wasn't gentle, or careful.

Yet Jay couldn't have cared less. He always did, and always would, cave into Mike's selfish whims.

Out of cowardice, terror, or even pity? Jay didn't know. Jay couldn't say he cared, truthfully. This was the one damn thing that made him feel alive anymore and despite how disgusted he felt with himself, he wouldn't give it up, ever.

Far too soon, Mike pulled out his fingers. Jay could hear him breathe heavily behind him, the unmistakable sounds of skin on skin as he pleasured himself, slicking himself up with the meager offerings that he had on hand.

Despite the amount of times they'd done this, never had they prepared for it - it would ruin the spontaneous nature of it, another tedious routine to add to already long days.

Blunt, hot pressure pressed against his entrance, and Jay tried his best to relax. Mike wasn't a small man; tensing up wasn't going to make it easier for either of them.

Jay exhaled heavily as Mike's cock began to slide in, the tip popping in past the rim somewhat easily - although Jay could start to feel the stretch already, a soft whimper escaping him as Mike didn't bother letting him adjust.

Onwards Mike pressed, but at a certain point it was clear that it just wasn't going to happen without proper lubrication; Jay's body twitched and convulsed from the strain, his whines increasing the more Mike forced his way in.

Mike made an exasperated noise and pulled out slowly, his hands on Jay's hips tightening as he removed himself.

"You got anything?" Mike grumbled gruffly. He sounded irritated; and for a moment, annoyance surged through Jay at the thought of Mike blaming _ him _ for being ill-prepared. Maybe _ he _ should take it up the ass some time, then Mike would think twice about the way he treated him.

"Got some hand cream in my pocket," Jay didn't say what he was thinking, because if he did, Mike probably would've forgone the lubrication and made sure it hurt even more.

"Alright," more sounds of fabric being moved as Mike searched, "think I got a rubber somewhere too-- wait, I got it."

The faint scent of Aloe Vera wafted in the air as Mike uncapped the top. Apparently he was multitasking, because as slippery fingers made their made into his hole, Jay could also hear the crinkling and then rip of Mike tearing open a condom with his teeth.

Mike didn't prepare him for long; only long enough for Jay's flagging erection to perk up again, and soon Mike's fingers were out and his cock was pressing back in, slicker and smoother.

Jay could feel Mike's greasy hands clench around his waist as he pushed in. With hardly any resistance this time, Jay took all of Mike to the base, the scruffy hair around the bigger man's groin scratchy against his ass.

"Fuck, you're as tight as always," Mike said, like an odd compliment, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm, "you're so fucking tight because your holes belongs to _ me _, don't they, Jay?"

Jay couldn't respond to that. He'd definitely been on his knees a few times in front of slimy executives and managers to get gigs. It was a part of the industry - Rich had confessed to doing it once or twice while high on prescription meds, too.

And Mike, when he was younger and slimmer with a heap of boyish charm, the light on in his eyes and enthusiasm still present, would disappear for an hour at a time with official-looking men into the office and later come out looking rumpled and flushed, his eyes growing dimmer each time.

It happened. They all knew it happened, but they never spoke of it. Jay had pushed it to the back of his mind - they were getting too old, too undesirable for that sort of thing anymore.

Yet it was always hard to forget the distant memory of the leather of the casting couch sweating from underneath him as his face got fucked and his hair got pulled by some married man in his fifties, a photo of a wife and two spoilt middle-class kids beaming at him from the desk as the man would shoot his load all over his face and nerdy glasses.

The beep of the camera haunted Jay. It reminded him, of when he had to smile into the lens, thank the sleazy fuck for his time and politely ask for the job - which most of the time he didn't get.

"Jay!" Mike shouted, jostling him from out of his memories by slamming hard into his ass and against his prostate, "I asked you something! Answer me!"

"Wha--? Oh, uh," Jay hesitated for a brief second, his brain turning mushy - and it was a long enough pause that it made Mike _ snap_ .

"Don't think you belong to me, huh?!" he snarled, and Jay felt his bowtie tighten around his neck as Mike dragged his head back by it, his spine twisting into an inverted arch, "ANSWER ME!"

Jay was trying hard to - but the knot of the stupid tie had caught underneath his Adam's apple, the cord too snug around his skin to breathe, let alone talk. Pressure built up in his face as he clawed at the garment, gurgles the only noise he could make to express his discomfort.

"Holy shit Jay, what the fuck-- why are you getting so fuckin' tight?" Mike wheezed, the grip on the cord firmer than ever as he hammered into his ass harder, seemingly unaware of Jay's plight, "do you like being a disobedient bitch or what? You enjoy pissing me off?"

Cold sweat broke out on Jay's neck, his lungs burning and black spots dotting his vision. He was going to fucking die, surrounded by children's toys and soulless, cheap products.

A pathetic way to go, but at least it would a suitable grave for him; a cold, unfeeling tomb built from the scraps of Disney's empire. An apt punishment, for all the lies he had ever told on camera.

His eyes began to roll back, and in one last effort, Jay let out a whine, "n-n--n-nnnn--" being the only thing he could muster. Everything felt so much more intense while on the verge of passing out; from the way Mike's cock skidded across his prostate, to the sound of his exertion, turned up to eleven.

Just as Jay was thinking that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to die while so hyperaware, Mike loosened his hold, swearing loudly, "Fuck! I-- shit, man, I didn't realise--"

Sputtering and coughing against the table, Jay held himself up with shaky arms. His neck felt sore and itchy, and his chest heaved as he swallowed down air greedily. Tension he didn't even realise he had seeped from his muscles the more he breathed, becoming limp and boneless against the smooth surface.

Jay's head throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the intense pulsing of his groin. He was pretty sure he'd come straight away if Mike touched his dick; although Jay didn't need to worry about that too much, considering that Mike never cared too much about Jay's pleasure. And in the event he came early, Mike would continue to fuck his slackened body until he finished regardless. 

"I--"

"A-again," Jay gasped, cutting Mike off. To feel so alive so close to the end was exhilarating, and a dangerous, risky game with dire consequences if he lost it - yet Jay couldn't say he cared. He just wanted to _ feel_ , not think.

Mike was silent, and Jay took it as him mulling it over. Or maybe he was displeased that he'd been given an order - after all, it _ was _ a shift in power.

He needn't have worried, because seconds later, Jay felt the bowtie become taut, a familiar, addicting constricting feeling crushing his windpipe.

"Of course you like this," growled Mike, giving the cord a yank. His free hand, that had been pressing hard into Jay's hip, slowly skated upwards and underneath Jay's _ Star Wars _ shirt, tickling his ribs until it found his nipple.

Breathlessly, Jay moaned as Mike groped and massaged at his pecs that were shamefully softer and fuller than they used to be, too many late recordings fueled by sugar taking their toll on his body. When Mike pinched his nipple, Jay choked, and Mike relaxed his hold.

He wasn't given very long to take in precious air; and a few breaths in, Mike was choking him again, his cock pistoning in and out faster the harder he pulled on the cord.

Jay's heart thudded against his chest, adrenaline rushing through his veins as his oxygen levels depleted. The searing burn in his chest was minimal, compared to the shocks of pleasure shooting up his spine - it felt amazing, addicting, and the constant stream of precum dribbling down his inner thighs was a signal that his orgasm was on its way.

Release, contract, release, contract, release, contract. So many times was Jay brought to the edge, but never did Mike let him fall over it - releasing the bowtie when Jay went too quiet or slowing down, deliberately missing his good spots the moment he started bucking his hips wildly.

Frustrating, but Jay consoled himself with knowing that Mike was close, too. His pants were becoming more ragged, his thrusts uneven; against his butt, Jay could feel the hot, hard slaps of Mike's balls, rigid and tense as his climax approached.

"Who owns you?" Mike rasped, his body slumping onto Jay's back and suffocating him further. Mike's stomach was sticky with sweat, his musky scent flooding Jay's nostrils whenever he managed to breathe it in.

"Y-you," mumbled Jay, "you, you, you, you--"

"_ Shit_ \--" Mike's hand twisted, the cord becoming so tight that Jay was shocked that it didn't snap - he let out a silent, unheard moan as Mike absolutely pulverised his lower half, his legs becoming weak and waist turning numb as pleasure tingled throughout his entire body.

Vision clouding and his grasp on reality slipping, Jay felt Mike's warm breath ghost his ear as he babbled incessant nonsense, broken up my intermittent groans and huffs. Jay assumed it was nonsense, anyway - the rush of blood in his head and in his ears was making it difficult to hear.

"Ah, fuck, _ fuck_\--!" Mike grunted, the noise so low and rumbly that Jay could feel it vibrate against his back, "I'm--"

Mike went in deep, his cock grinding against Jay's most sensitive parts so well that any air he had left was knocked out of him, his muscles clenching to keep Mike in him.

Through the haze of his own mind-numbing ecstasy, Jay felt Mike's cock pulsate inside of him, his thrusts short and broken. He must have been coming, but it didn't slow him down; several seconds later his movements became as rough as ever, if slightly desperate, Mike's groans sounding more and more whiny the more he fucked into him.

He couldn't breathe. He could barely think, but Jay's body chased that pleasure, fucking back onto Mike's girth to get to his own release - for he knew that if he didn't come soon, Mike would give up and Jay would be left to jerk himself off, unsatisfied and disappointed.

"Come, Goddammit!" Mike sounded on the verge of begging, and if Jay had been a bit crueller, or less addicted to his desires, he would've dragged the whole thing on for longer to see Mike at his weakest.

But alas, Mike would always one-up him regardless; with one hand on his bowtie and the other slapping over his mouth and pinching his nose, Jay writhed and squirmed, clawing at Mike weakly.

It was useless. Mike was too strong, too big, for Jay to fight against. All he could do was give up, and pray for his orgasm to come before he totally succumbed to the black fog that swirled around the edges of his eyes.

Mike was trying harder than usual to get him off, even though his cock was getting softer by the minute. But, still; Mike's damp palm over his mouth, the heady mixture of pain and pleasure - Jay let out a muted scream into Mike's hand as he came, his entire body seizing up.

The darkness he almost slipped into abruptly cleared as Mike let go of him, fresh, clean, air gracing his lungs and stabilising him. Jay hacked, and coughed, wet splutters coating his chin as Mike pulled out immediately.

As Jay felt his knees give way, he latched himself onto the table with the last remaining dregs of his strength. His legs shook, his knees quaking together as cum spurted from his dick, coating the side of the desk and down his thigh.

He'd have to clean that later. Mike never did, whenever they made a mess - he'd often look disappointed to see the stains gone the next day, any signs of defilement scrubbed away. Jay, on the other hand, preferred to keep the mementos of their rebellion as nothing more than phantoms, invisible to the camera that kept them chained to their tiresome routine.

A dark, hollow feeling ate at Jay from the inside at the thought that tomorrow, they'd be putting on their fake personalities once more, and the past hour would be nothing but a distant memory, to be replaced with drudgery and empty words until the next time it overwhelmed them both, and the pleasure-seeking cycle started all over again.

A shuffling noise from behind Jay made it clear that Mike was redressing already, a wet slap of a used condom hitting his ass cheek. Mike didn't even have the courtesy of tying it up; a thick blob of cum oozed out, sullying Jay further.

"Jay…" Mike began, and Jay listened, curious, for Mike rarely spoke after sex. Most of the time he left without a word, leaving Jay used and worn-out alone on the table, the emotionless eyes of plastic mascots boring into him, judging him.

Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, Mike's mouth shut with such force that Jay heard his teeth clink together. Wearily, Jay turned over onto his back, leaving the condom to fall to the ground; it didn't matter, not right then.

For the first time since the whole thing started, Jay could actually _ see _ Mike - see how tired and worn he looked, his hair matted with sweat and bags under his eyes. His clothes were rumpled, the shirt carelessly buttoned.

He looked as pathetic as Jay felt.

Swallowing, Mike gave him a strange going-over, focusing on his throat. Uncomfortable under his intense gaze, Jay turned his head, deciding to focus on a poorly-made figurine of Han Solo instead, sharp spikes of bad molding and blotchy paint the most distinguishing features of the thing.

"...You look good with something around your neck," Mike said, so lowly that Jay wasn't really sure he heard him right. He couldn't get a repeat of it, either, for Mike turned on his heel and left, the door to the recording room creaking shut behind him.

The strangest, most ominous compliment in his life - but still Jay's cheeks flooded with warmth, his heart fluttering against his ribcage like a thousand tiny butterflies.

Jay spent the next hour staring up at the stark white ceiling. He still had over two hours worth of footage to edit. A lot of sarcastic, biting jibes had flown about today - Jay usually removed most of them, but kept some of the subtle ones in so they passed unseen and unheard by the brainless dullards and executives that watched their podcast, while hopefully enlightening/appealing to the skeptics still left in society.

He didn't know why he even bothered. A cry for help, or a way to get some cheap thrills by toeing the line so closely? Maybe both. Maybe neither.

Whatever it was, it still had to be done. Despite the protests of his aching muscles, Jay sat up. His head hurt, he felt gross and dirty; yet as he began the task of cleaning up the room and himself with Mike's comment ringing in his ears, he thought that maybe, just maybe, things weren't so bad after all.

**≈·≈·≈·≈**

Two days later, Jay was left with a deep, circular bruise around his neck and a scab on his ear. He covered up the purple mark with a bandana; some sort of superhero motif on it that he didn't even bother to waste his energy on recognising. It was green, and that's all he cared to note about it.

His wound on his ear was also carefully covered up with a band-aid, cutesy caricatures of Spiderman and webs covering the surface. Jay stuck one on his cheek, too, and made up some nonsense on camera that he'd been so excited to get into the newest Disney flick that he'd fallen _ up _ the steps to the cinema.

Mike had forced a laugh, but his eyes had been dark. Luckily Rich was there to smooth over any tension, spinning a whole spiel about how he had also been hyped and ended up seeing it three times because it was just _ soooo _ good, despite Jay knowing that he'd probably spent the night playing video games and eating junk food, reading other people's reviews beforehand so he could pretend he had something to talk about.

Filming finished. Rich went home straight away, as per usual.

Mike stayed behind - and so did Jay, stumbling home at three in the morning sore and tired, sweat and semen drying on his skin.

The afternoon after, Jay found out that covering the finger-shaped bruising around his neck harder to conceal, his bandana wet and ruined where Mike had used it to gag him. Luckily he found a dusty scarf shoved in the back of the studio's wardrobe, even if it was the middle of summer and emblazoned with the snowman from _ Frozen _ \- clearly a girl's scarf - it did the trick.

The scarf also made for a decent restraint later on that evening, although Jay put that down to Mike's excellent knot-tying skills, which was a slightly alarming discovery; if he hadn't been tied to a leg of a table, legs bent back to his shoulders to the point where his body was practically folded in half, Jay would've been concerned.

Instead he just drowned in the euphoria that Mike gave him, and focused on the _ now _ rather than the _ what-if's_.

Mike wouldn't do anything too silly. He was too apathetic to do anything, like all of them.

Time went on in its usual mundane fashion, brightened only by the glorious moments of thrills Mike bestowed upon him. A routine of filming and editing, with sex thrown in here and there. _ That _ was always different - although as of late, the amount of times Mike stayed behind for overtime had increased - and so did the marks around Jay's neck.

Things went like usual - until something began to change.

It started with the Walt Disney Company buying out several smaller stores. Hardly surprising that the ever increasing monopoly was gobbling up more struggling businesses - but then they bought more. And more, focusing on the food industry in particular.

Then, one morning, over the news, a greying news anchorman announced that Disney had acquired McDonald's. Two weeks later, Taco Bell, KFC and Pizza Hut fell in one swoop as the Yum brand was sold off to the mouse.

One by one, the pieces of the chessboard began to fall, leaving only the king with his rounded ears and white-gloved hands left. A dam had been opened, and two months on, Walmart succumbed to the massive amounts of money flung their way.

It was insane. Overnight, it felt as if the world had become one huge marketing campaign for the most tepid of franchises. Going out to grab a loaf of bread and some milk from Walmart became an impossible task, because as soon as he entered the store, Jay would be accosted by an employee dressed in full superhero garb at the door, asking a multitude of questions about his opinion on Disney, and their products, and whether he wanted to buy tickets to _ Iron Man 4: The Ironing _ and a two-point-five percent discount on his shopping if he did.

Utter madness. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Day by day the soul seeped out from all three of them, if not the entire population of America - as brand after brand was sold and bastardised into nothing more than a tool for monetary gains, all of the heart and soul gone forever.

They kept filming. Kept discussing Disney, and sucking up to them for the scraps of money they so graciously spared them - but Jay could see it in Mike and Rich's eyes. They were dying a little more inside each day.

One day Rich didn't turn up for ‘work’. Then one day became two. Two days became a week. At first there was excuses - he was ill. His fourth cousin twice removed was getting married. He was under house arrest. The lies kept coming, but then Rich stopped answering his phone.

Jay never saw Rich again. His apartment was empty, his phone number out of use. None of his relatives knew where he was - or they weren't letting slip if they did, and the police were useless, refusing to investigate.

Hopefully Rich had ran off and gotten away from it all, because the alternatives were far too depressing to think about. Mike had become even more of a recluse since Rich's disappearance - more paranoid, too, constantly checking over his shoulder and jumping whenever his - or Jay's - phone buzzed.

Rich was soon replaced with someone else - Jake? Joe? No, Jack. He had an unbridled enthusiasm for Disney, no cynical edge to his comments; it made Jay's head hurt to listen to, jealous that someone could be so passionate about something.

The podcast continued. So did Disney's reign of terror, chewing up all the corporations it could sink its teeth into and spitting them back out as former shadows of themselves.

Life went on, each day more greyer than the last, until on one cold and soggy evening, Jay came home to the news in the form of a letter that his apartment lease was coming to an end, and, if he wanted to renew it, he should speak to the new landlord - a representative of Disney Housings.

When he told Mike, he didn't expect his response.

"You should move in with me, Jay," Mike said, or more like insisted immediately. "it'll be cheaper. And safer."

Jay noted the ‘safer’ part but didn't ask. He did, however, ask when he could move in, and a few days later Jay had packed up his meager amount of possessions and set up home at Mike's place. For the first few nights he stayed on the couch - then when Mike dragged him to bed one night, hands tearing off his clothes on the way, Jay never slept on the sofa again.

Living with Mike was a lot more comfortable than he thought it would be. They drank copious amounts of beer. Watched shitty B-movies and laughed at them, before turning their drunk asses into bed in the early hours of the morning.

Within the four walls of Mike's apartment, Jay could ignore what was happening to the world outside, maybe even delude himself that he was loved when Mike brought home gifts whenever he worked later than Jay, chocolates, flowers, VHS tapes with faded gruesome box art and, curiously, a dog collar one day.

He hadn't really known what to say to that one. It was black, leather, with a circular tag with his name on, and on the back - ‘_Mike_’.

Odd, but Jay had slipped it on regardless under Mike's expecting gaze, tying the buckle up tight so the velvety inside of the collar grazed softly against the near-constant bruising he tended to have around his neck most days.

Mike had pounced on him soon after, jerking him around by collar whenever he wanted to take Jay in a different position. Fast and hard to the point that Jay was sure the headboard had dented the wall; thank God Mike didn't have neighbours.

When Mike finally had his fill, he rolled off and onto his back, breathing heavily.

"Don't take it off," whispered Mike into the darkness, his arm snaking around Jay's shoulders and pulling him close. His thumb edged around the rim of the collar, ever so slightly catching Jay's nape at times, causing him to shudder at the ticklish sensation. The gesture could have seemed intimate or affectionate from an outsider's perspective; but Jay knew better. Possessive, with a hint of desperation - Mike was claiming _ his _ property in some sort of twisted desire to actually own something of his own.

And Jay played along. Because being owned by Mike was a far better option - lying there in his arms, Jay felt safe, warm. Perhaps even happy if he could wade past through the complicated emotions and doubts that their relationship wasn't exactly normal, nor healthy.

"I won't," Jay promised. And he didn't - from that point on, he wore turtlenecks, scarfs, anything that would hide it from the prying eyes of the public.

Nights were always followed by mornings; dozens of them passed by in a blur. On one rainy day, when Jay was sleep-deprived from a drunken Mike keeping him up all night, neither of them noticed that Jack had been wearing a DC shirt, Batman's logo proudly on display across his chest. They filmed. Jay edited it, then posted it.

Jack didn't come back to work afterwards. Jay didn't want to know what happened to him - just like Rich, he vanished off the face of the earth - and he was starting to understand Mike's near-constant fear.

A thin Canadian man named Colin turned up at the office the day after, announcing he was Jack's replacement; and he was a very good actor. His words of praise about Disney flowed like silk, but Jay could pick up the slight mocking tone to his words. His sarcasm was refreshing, and his knowledge about obscure movies rivalled Jay's own.

Mike also appeared to like him. Jay would catch them talking quietly in the break room sometimes, their conversation fizzling out as soon as he entered. Jealousy spiked inside of Jay whenever it happened, selfishly wanting Mike all to himself, to be the only one he needed.

Perhaps Mike wasn't the only possessive one.

Over their evening dinner, a week after Colin's arrival, Mike gave Jay an order - "don't go back to work," and Jay nearly threw the plate of spaghetti at him. Of course he was in the way, clinging to Mike at any chance he got. Mike had played with him and now he had a _ new _best friend or whatever--

"You belong to _me_. I don't - I _ won't _ \- let them get to you, I can't-- Jay, stay here with me, _forever_\--"

Oh. Jay felt the sincerity in Mike's words; and reaching over the table to hold Mike's hand, Jay squeezed it in an act he hoped was reassuring, "okay."

Mike squeezed back, some of the stress that tensed his shoulders visibly rolling off of him.

However, it was naïve to think that Mike's obsessive behaviour would calm down - any mention of the mouse would shake him. Anything relating to it was banned from entering over the threshold of the front door.

And when Disney bought more and more brands, Mike bought their food from farmer markets instead. Clothing labels were carefully snipped off to remove the offending logos (until they started embroidering it directly into the clothes - then Mike just stopped buying clothes altogether. Jay spent most of the day in his underwear to save his clothes from wearing out), and soon, Mike refused to wear condoms and use lube when Deadpool's cheesy jokes seemed to be printed on the side of all their packaging. Instead he'd use spit, and if he was in a decent mood, tongue Jay open to make it easier.

A few months down the line, Mike threw their cellphones into the trash when Disney announced their new patented Disneye™ technology to be installed in every major mobile phone OS within the next month. Jay didn't even know what the technology was, just that it operated through the camera - and that sentence alone had made Mike immediately pry open their phones, snapping the SIM cards into pieces and stamping on the screens until they shattered.

Life got worse. Mike's paranoia got worse and worse too - Jay couldn't leave the house at night. No answering the door. Ever. Nor the landline; and cable TV was prohibited due to the sickeningly biased propaganda displayed every five minutes, all in favour of a corporation that was driving everyone around the bend.

Most mornings Jay went for a walk, to stretch the legs and keep himself from feeling too cooped up. Usually he did it after Mike left for work; but on that particular Wednesday he got up early. So he decided to go out at the brink of dawn and hopefully get back before Mike was awake.

Alas, Jay would find out that was a miscalculation, because when he got back, he was welcomed to the sight of couch cushions scattered everywhere, a mug broken on the floor and cupboards wide open with their contents carelessly strewn about.

And stood in the middle of the chaos was Mike, dazed and blank, only snapping out of stupor when Jay shut the door behind him with a click.

"Where the _ fuck _ did you go?!" spat Mike, anger and fear and so much worry etched on his face that Jay felt guilty; Mike was under so much pressure to keep him safe, and there he was, just flaunting himself out in public, "I thought…-- I thought-- you'd--"

"Shh," Jay shushed walking over to where Mike was, sidestepping all the shattered porcelain, "I'm fine, I'm okay," he wrapped his arms around Mike's middle and sunk into the soft warmth of his belly. Mike tensed, then relaxed, scooping Jay into a tight, restricting hug, as if he never going to release him again.

"Please don't leave me," Mike mumbled into Jay's hair, "don't want you to disappear like everyone else…"

"I won't," promised Jay, "promise me you won't, either."

Mike took a long time to answer.

"...I won't."

**≈·≈·≈·≈**

Mike started coming home later and later. Whenever Jay asked, he just grunted out ‘work’. He didn't press it; Mike still had a tendency to use him as stress relief whenever he was in a foul mood - which was, unfortunately, more and more these days.

Surely Mike had a good reason.

He must have.

Even when one night, he didn't return home.

Braving the dark, Jay went out to search for him immediately, slipping on one of Mike's shirts like a protective charm. Warm and cosy with a lingering scent, it was like being hugged by the man it belonged to.

Searching bars brought up nothing, and neither did hospitals; and the office was locked. Luckily Jay had remembered where they kept the spare key - under a plant pot. Cliché as it was, they've never been robbed.

The place was empty. In fact, it didn't look like it had been opened for a while, as a stack of envelopes were still by the front door. Several pieces of equipment had gone, too - mostly the expensive cameras and some of the more collectable figurines. Messages bleeped on the answerphone, but Jay left them.

Leaving the building, Jay went home with lead in his stomach.

Had Mike...abandoned him? Sold off the equipment and ran off into the night?

As soon as he had got home, Jay curled up in a ball on the bed both he and Mike had shared. He was unsure of how long he had spent in that position. Maybe he fell asleep, he didn't know.

Jay finally crawled out of bed what could have been hours or days later, his body aching all over and head fuzzy. He just wanted to go back to the half-asleep state he had been in, but he needed to pee. Drink some water. Maybe eat. Take a shower.

For what felt like weeks, he lived in a dream-like trance, feeling as if he was wandering around in a fog. He rewatched all the movies Mike had bought him, swallowing the lump in his throat as he remembered Mike's laughter and dumb jokes during certain parts of them. He ate the tins of food Mike had stocked up on - they tasted like nothing against his palate, but his stomach protested when he didn't eat. Trash piled up as his energy levels depleted, but Jay was unable to care about the laundry or cleaning up after himself.

Somewhere between dusk and nightfall, as Jay was watching the news about some politician with huge amounts of stocks invested in Disney was apparently running for presidency, a knock sounded on the door.

Quickly he leapt to his feet, thinking that, at last, Mike had returned - then paused. Mike always carried his key with him, so if it _ was _ him, why was he knocking?

Slowly, Jay tiptoed over to the front door, making sure that he avoided any of the creaky floorboards, and peeked through the peephole.

Two men in dark suits with the ever-oppressive cursive ‘D’ etched into their labels stood at the entrance, stern-faced and burly. They were chatting to each other, but other than the low rumble, he couldn't hear anything specific. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been good.

Jay was deeply thankful that he always had the curtains drawn and volume muted on the TV; because he really, really doubted they were there for a pleasant visit.

Fear spiked within him. He couldn't take them on. Maybe with a weapon? But their arms alone were probably bigger than his thighs - it sounded like a terrible idea.

No, no attacking. Yet he didn't know what to do - Mike lived a few floors up, so it wasn't like he could escape through a window either.

As quietly as possible, Jay sneaked over to the bedroom. His options limited, he decided to do the only thing that came to mind - hiding.

When he got to the bed, he got on his knees and crawled underneath the frame, hiding in the small space. It was dusty, and dark, and it would be the first place they'd look if the men forcibly entered, but still. It wasn't like Mike's tiny apartment had many places to hide.

Minutes rolled by as Jay lay under the bed. His breath sounded so loud, his heartbeat so vivid as he became hyper-aware of everything around him. Every crack and creak of the building made Jay's pulse race, the noises sounding far too similar to somebody walking around.

He knew he was alone. The door hadn't opened, he would've heard it, and all the windows were shut.

But Jay was still scared. It was a perfect horror movie-esque scenario - he half-expected some masked serial killer's face to pop up in the gap between the bed and drag him out kicking and screaming before putting an end to his life in the most gruesome way possible.

Huddling up into Mike's shirt, Jay gingerly touched the collar he had a habit of wearing still, waiting for the time to pass, because surely, they wouldn't - couldn't - stand outside forever.

He felt so alone and lost. How could Mike leave him so cruelly, without a word, in these uncertain times? If Jay wasn't so afraid of the noise, he'd throw the stupid collar at the wall and rip the shirt he was wearing in a fit of anger.

As the sky turned fully dark outside, Jay decided to check the door. He couldn't hide forever - his supplies were dwindling, and even if the men didn't force their way in today, tomorrow could have been a different story.

What he needed to do was run - he didn't know where - but he just had to get away. Not to his parents, that might put them in danger. And they only friends he had were gone, including Mike and Rich. Colin? Could he be trusted? Maybe. He'd find out.

Jay worried his lip as he got out from under the bed and snuck over to the front door, checking the peephole again. Nobody there, yet he couldn't relax.

Acting fast, Jay dug around for his backpack that he had used to move in. In a hurry he threw in most of his essential possessions, leaving the gifted VHS tapes with a heavy heart, and then took off his collar, taking a second to decide what to do with it - before throwing it in the bag too, zipping it shut.

Slipping on a pair of sneakers, Jay took one last look around the apartment as he rested his hand on the door handle. To some it might have seemed like his cage, but to him, it had been his _home_.

His eyes felt watery. He wasn't going to cry, damn it.

Wiping his face, Jay turned the handle and yanked open the door - then bumped into a big, looming figure.

Jay almost screamed as a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back into the hallway, a slam indicating that his only way to escape was gone.

About to attempt to punch his way out of the situation, his fist stopped when he reached his attacker's face--

It was _Mike_.

"M-Mike--?!" Jay gasped, frozen in place. He looked _terrible_, a bruise around his eye and a bloody cut on his upper lip, his stubble scruffy and unkempt. His clothes were ripped at the seams in some places too, as if he had been struggling - but - _he was alive_.

"Jay - thank Christ - I thought you wouldn't be here--" Mike started, but Jay cut him off, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him down into a forceful kiss. He should've been gentler, given Mike's state, but if the other was in pain he didn't show it, kissing him back with as much fervour.

"I missed you," blubbered Jay against Mike's lips, touching him all over to make sure he was _ real _ and not some sort of heartbroken-induced hallucination.

"Ow, careful, I think _ they _ bruised a rib," winced Mike, yet he was grinning, too, "missed me? I've only been gone for three days."

"Three days too long," Jay said, pulling away, "I thought you-- ran away."

"Oh, I'm going to," nodded Mike, walking to the bedroom and pulling out a tattered old _ Star Trek _ backpack from the back of his wardrobe, "but I'm taking you with me."

He started chucking clothes and toiletries into his bag, only stopping to grab a few slices of leftover frozen pizza from the fridge that Jay had put there the day before. It must have been like chewing through cardboard, yet Mike devoured it anyway, washing it down with a bottle of water.

"Where are we going?" Jay asked. Mike moved as if he had a plan, searching through drawers and pulling out paperwork along with their passports, passing them to Jay who shoved them in his pockets.

"Canada, it's untouched by _them_," Mike replied, bending down and yanking up a leg of his pants, reaching into his sock and pulling out a wad of cash, dumping it into his luggage, "Colin's been helping me set up a visa for us. It's not done yet, but we can't stay here, they've been after you for a while since you stopped turning up for work - we can just stay with Rich for a bit though, he's got room apparently--"

"Rich is in Canada?"

"Yup. Saw some dudes in suits outside of his apartment, and he decided to scarper there and then - trashed his phone a few days later incase they tracked him through it. Weaseled his way into Canada on a refugee visa," Mike zipped up his bag and went into the bathroom with a handful of clothes, stripping off the tattered ones he was wearing, "made friends with Colin while looking for work and told him about us, so he agreed to help out, under the disguise of being a member on the podcast."

"Wow," Jay couldn't believe Rich was still alive, and working so hard with a man he had barely met to get them out of danger. Touching, really.

"Sold all the equipment in the studio to pay for our expenses - but it seemed like I alerted those fucks about what I was doing. Got shoved into a van on the way home but I got away, and then tried to shake them off for a bit by laying low on the streets," explained Mike, turning on the shower and jumping in.

Jay pulled down the seat of the toilet and sat on it, waiting for Mike to finish, watching his large shadow wash down the grime and blood off of himself. If there had been time, Jay would've been tempted to join him - without the intention of getting clean. Unfortunately, that would have to wait for when they were safe...in Canada.

Canada. Holy shit. He couldn't believe that Mike had been planning to escape the whole time, "why didn't you tell me?" questioned Jay the moment the shower shut off, trying not to ogle Mike's body when he stepped out. 

"Didn't want to get your hopes up," Mike mumbled as he barely towelled himself off, jumping into his clothes with his skin still glistening and damp, "didn't know if it was going to happen."

Understanding, Jay nodded.

"C'mon, we better go - don't leave my side, stay close to me," said Mike, and Jay reached out a hand, linking them together, "er, I guess that works."

Wrenching open the door, they ran as soon as the cool night air hit them, their hands sweating the more they exerted themselves. Yet Jay held on tight, and so did Mike, his grip firm and steadfast like he was never going to let go again.

A shout rang out from behind them, and Jay craned his head to look behind him. It was the two men from earlier, getting out of a black, nondescript car. They'd been waiting, clearly.

They pounded the concrete with their feet, trying to put as much distance between them. But their bags were heavy, and Mike seemed tired already. They ran, and ran, but the footsteps behind them got louder and louder as they got closer--

They had been so close, so close.

One of the pursuers grabbed Jay's rucksack and forced him back, wrenching him and Mike apart. He shouted out in alarm, but a thick palm slapped over his mouth, silencing him, and an arm wrapped around his neck to stop him from escaping.

_Shit_.

Jay struggled and kicked, clawing at the thick arm around throat, to no avail; his small frame and lack of strength barely even tickling the man.

Mike was too preoccupied with the other assailant to be able to help, the suited-up man attempting to topple him to the ground by landing a devastating kick to Mike's shins, then a powerful blow to his stomach - winded, Mike slumped to the floor groaning in pain, clutching his gut and curling in on himself as he got punched, and kicked, repeatedly.

Unable to watch as Mike got beaten up, Jay pressed the hand over his mouth down, closer to his teeth, and took a huge bite of the fatty flesh on the man's finger.

"Ow! You little bitch, that fucking hurt!" his captor howled, dropping Jay. He stumbled, and looked around for a weapon. A trashcan, a broken umbrella, and a rusted, slightly warped crowbar lounged against the sidewalk, ripe for the picking.

Grabbing the crowbar, he hesitated for a split second - then smashed it against the man's knees, hearing something crack loudly as he did.

Howls of pain turned into full-on screams of agony, the attempted kidnapper collapsing in a pile on the floor, sobbing. With one incapacitated, Jay spun around, and missed the fist that had been coming his way by a mere inch.

He had dodged the blow, but clumsily; staggering, the attacker took that moment to crash into Jay's side, pushing him onto the concrete.

Groaning as his back smacked hard against the concrete, Jay let go of the crowbar and heard it skid off into the distance. He reached out in desperation, groping around in the murky gloom until a heavy weight sat on his chest.

Pulse racing, Jay looked into the deadened, cold eyes of a Disney crony. In his hand was the crowbar, and Jay knew it was the end for him.

Closing his eyelids and bracing himself for the impact, he hoped it would be over quickly.

He waited, and waited - opening his eyes when the man slumped on top of him, almost crushing him.

Illuminated in the soft glow of a flickering streetlight stood Mike, a broken chunk of a breezeblock in grasp. He threw it to one side, then kicked the unconscious guy off too, reaching out his hand.

Jay took it, letting himself be helped up. One henchman zonked out, the other crawling away - but they weren't out of the woods yet.

About to suggest they catch a cab, a car screeched to a halt on the sidewalk. Both of them tensed, but relaxed when the window rolled down and out popped Colin's head, beckoning them with a jerk.

"Need a ride?"

Not needing to be asked twice, Jay followed Mike as he opened the car door and slithered into the back seat, still realising that they were holding hands. Mike wasn't letting go though, so Jay wasn't going to either.

"Fuck," Mike dabbed at his lip, blood dribbling down his chin, "that was close."

"Looks like it," said Colin, putting the car into gear and speeding off, "thought I was too late when I went to your apartment, the door was wide open."

"We left in a hurry," Mike replied, "why did you go to my apartment, anyway?"

"I was going to tell you not to use the airport, I heard from Jim that Disney goons are hanging around the area," Colin rummaged in the compartment by the side of his seat, throwing a pack of tissues backwards towards Mike.

"Who's Jim?" asked Jay, pulling out some of the tissues to help Mike clean up, "and why are you helping us?"

"Jim's a friend from work. We're journalists," Colin explained, "we've been digging into Disney for a while. When your friend Rich told us his story, we just _ had _ to hear your side of it too. Maybe we'll help stop their monopoly spreading if we reveal all the shady shit they're doing. Or whatever. But first we're going to get you out - I got some friends up in the immigration offices, they're trying to put together a visa for you both ASAP."

"..." Jay didn't know what to say to a man that was basically saving their lives, and potentially others, too, "...thanks."

"Don't sweat it. Just buy me and Jim a beer once you get over the border, yeah?"

"Sure," agreed Jay, although a paltry beer didn't seem enough. Maybe he'd buy them an entire six-pack once he didn't have to sponge money off Mike.

"Isn't this the way to the train station?" Mike piped up, peering out of the window. The streets were empty and lifeless, the once busy nightlife silenced by a howling, desolate wind.

"Yup. I'd drive you to the border myself, but I bet they're tracking this car down right now. Probably safer on a train, anyhow. More people."

"You've done more than enough for us, Colin. This is fine," Mike reassured. Jay saw him flash a rare, genuine smile to the Canadian, even though he wouldn't be able to see it from the front seat.

Jay fidgeted for the rest of the ride, restless. Mike was quiet too, jiggling his leg like he always did when he was nervous or agitated - the anxiety of something happening, or halting their way forward was high.

It must have been an hour later when Colin turned a corner, and in the distance, the station came into view. Pulling up, he turned around in his seat to look at them both.

"We're here," he announced, "good luck, guys."

"Be safe," Mike said, getting out and pulling Jay along with him, "and thanks. For everything."

"Come on already, go - you have a train to catch."

They stood on the sidewalk, watching as Colin waved one last time, then sped off, the purr of the engine trailing off into nothing as his car disappeared into a tiny speck.

"We should go in," Jay chattered, shivering in the mid-winter chill. Mike must have noticed because he wrapped his arm around him and pulled him into the station. Jay would've felt embarrassed; but he was fucking _cold_, and Mike was oh so warm.

The station wasn't completely dead, yet not bustling either, a few people mulling about despite it getting later on in the evening. At least the queue to the ticket booth was non-existent, and getting the tickets was easy, and painless. Jay half-expected there to be no trains going to Canada at such a late time, but Colin must have done his research beforehand, as they only had a half-hour wait until the train arrived.

With the tickets in their hands, it was easy to feel excited. Two tickets to Canada...one-way. They were potentially never coming back to the hell hole that was America - and the prospect of that was _amazing_.

"Should've tried to get you a kids ticket," Mike joked, standing behind Jay and wrapping his arms around his neck, his chin resting on top of his head. They were far away from the entrance, in a shadowy corner, so it was fairly private.

"And maybe I should've tried to get you an elders ticket," retorted Jay, sinking into the warmth of Mike's chest. Standing there in Mike's strong, manly arms while the soft babbles of families and couples played out in the background was incredibly comforting, even cosy.

"If we weren't in public I'd bend you over my knee for that," Mike growled in his ear - and Jay wasn't sure if he was joking or not. He might have been a little disappointed that they _ were _in public…

"That means I can sass you all I like," Jay's tone turned suggestive as he dragged his fingertips against the hair on Mike's forearms, stretching his head back so he could look up into Mike's dark eyes.

"You could, but I'll make you pay for it when we get to a hotel," warned Mike, dipping his head down to press a small kiss to Jay's forehead, "I'll force that collar back on you...if you still got it?"

"Mhmm," Jay confirmed. He wanted to continue riling Mike up, but the train journey was going to be a long one - and it would be even longer if they were both sitting there the whole time pent-up. He had something more important to say anyway, "Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for saving me," Jay said vaguely, meaning much more than he could actually convey on a drafty platform, surrounded by strangers.

"Hah," Mike laughed, despite his hold getting possessively tighter, an edge to his chuckle that made it sound strained, "I wouldn't have been able to smash that bastard's head in if you hadn't caused that distraction. Guess we're even."

"No, Mike, I mean...nevermind," Jay stopped, a far-off clattering and screeching heralding the approach of the train. The magnificent silver beast grinded to a halt, slowly - as _ five _ men in suits entered the station, heads turning in every direction.

"Fuck! They found us already?!" Mike hissed as he spotted them, hunching over as if it would shield them from view, "come on, doors, _open_!"

People trembled where they sat or stood as the men stalked past them, their eyes sharp and hawkish. Some of them split off, either talking or threatening some of folk - and one terrified woman with a shaky hand pointed in _ their _ direction, just as the doors to the train opened with a satisfying _swish_.

A stream of travellers emptied out of every door, and in that chaos, Jay grabbed Mike's arm and pushed passed the unsuspecting weary crowd, ignoring the yells and curses aimed at them. He was holding onto Mike's wrist for dear life, running for the train - then someone pushed past, breaking their embrace.

Jay turned, but he couldn't see Mike. He tried to double back, but the horde of people was thick, like a wall; solid and unmovable.

"Run, Jay!" came Mike's voice from somewhere in the swarm, sounding panicked. Through the gaps of the crowd, Jay caught a glimpse of Mike fighting off two of the goons, but he couldn't get close - a surge of people from behind him pushed him forwards, trying to get away from the commotion and reach the sanctuary of the train.

"Mike!" Jay shouted, his cry muffled by the tannoy system announcing the imminent departure of the train all too soon, "MIKE!"

He fell face-first into the train, men and women dodging around him as he scrambled to get up. Jay was about to run back out - he wasn't going to leave Mike behind, damn it - but they slammed shut in his face, almost rudely.

Numb, Jay stood there in shock. The train vibrated, then rattled to life as it began to move.

The train was leaving. But Mike wasn't on it.

"Shit!" Jay swore, banging his fist against the door and surprising a nearby elderly couple. They tutted at him, so he shot them a glare, smarting from the painful throb in his fist.

And his heart.

Why did things always go _ wrong_?

Maybe it would be okay, even if Mike wasn't on the train. Maybe security jumped in, maybe Mike would get another train, or maybe someone else helped out.

A lot of maybes, and as Jay dragged his heavy bag to an empty seat and collapsed onto the faux leather, he didn't hold out much hope, not enough hope to even check the other carriages. Disney were strong, powerful - Mike had escaped once. They weren't going to let him escape a second time.

Pressing his forehead against the window and watching the city lights zoom past and morph into trees, Jay clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, his eyes stinging. Mike had done so much for him. And yet _ he _ was the one making it to Canada - he didn't deserve it--

"Hey, is this seat taken?"

Jay couldn't look up, body stiffening all over as he stared at the man's shoes instead. At his feet was a ratty old backpack, a faded _ Star Trek _logo peeling at the corners and cracked all the way through.

When Jay finally had the courage to look up, he was staring into the dark, almost black eyes he knew so well, shining so brightly like the first time they had met years ago, an immensely attractive grin plastered on the other man's face.

Jay laughed, and couldn't stop, burying his face in his hands as he managed to giggle out, "it's free for you anytime, Mike."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 💕  
Any errors, let me know! 
> 
> As a note - I'm alive, and I'm working on a much longer fic for these boys (I've been writing it on/off since March). It's at 40k or there about, and it's kind of a rewrite of the whole wedding arc in HiTB. Expect smut, feeding, cats, a wizard and terrible, terrible jokes. It's probably going to be around 70k~ (original estimate was 30k...lol). 
> 
> See you soon! Hopefully! 💖


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